


Quick! To the polls!

by oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: 2020 is messy rn, American Politics, F/F, FEMINISTS, Masks, Mini Roadtrip, Virus, Voting, amy 4 prez 2020, based on a prompt by beanie feildstein, blm activists, don't give amy the aux cord for road trips, established Aope, gay surgeons, gigi the dancing queen, hope cannot fix anything, i hate america, i mean amy and hope, i'm depressed and going through smthin, idk why i wrote this, livesavers and pringles, molly and annabelle are together if you squint hard enough, saving america, short series, speak and yee shall write it, tweet this at her if you want... idk, we love our gays, what is their ship name?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:42:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26360599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY/pseuds/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY
Summary: “We were— we were talking the other day on our Booksmart group text that Molly and Amy would be like… with their masks like on a street corner… begging people to vote.” – Beanie Feldstein  (Instagram Live 9-7-20 with Kaitlyn Dever.)Beanie... your conversation has been granted into this.---In a unfamiliar time of social distancing and a strong uninhibited cry of political and racial injustice, two best friends (and some other weirdos) are determined to help spread the news of how important voting is to the public somewhere in the muddle o New Haven on a rainy Tuesday...wet socks and runny hand painted signs ensue along with a hangry Hope and a chaotic rain-dancing Gigi....(because i wanted to.... sue me.)
Relationships: Amy/Hope (Booksmart), Jared/Molly (Booksmart)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Quick! To the polls!

**Author's Note:**

> _OH... IT'S BEEN A HOT MINUTE..._  
>    
> _my moodz :_
> 
> _undo / set 3 - the 1975  
>  not warriors - waterparks  
> cruel summer - taylor swift  
> idfc - blackbear  
> enemies - lauv_  
>  _you! - LANY_  
>  _chicken tenders - dominic fike_  
>  _lonely - machine gun kelly_  
>  _afraid - the neighborhood_  
>  _god save me, but don't drown me out - yungblud_
> 
> _\---_
> 
> ___Diana Silvers : *posts photo on IG*__  
>  _Diana Silvers' stans : "omg so pretty, marry me plz"_  
>  My fucked up gay ass : "please run me over diana." _
> 
> \---
> 
> _[got bored and felt some shit so i made this depressing mix.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7GFG0dXCMIN0G3UXPkBL3v?si=DOju1bimTN-0uT4aGCJ5BQ)_
> 
> _[here is a shit playlist to celebrate halloween... yes... it includes "we fell in love in october" cause i'm festive bish... what about it?](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3ix66S9OfvYuGMRxPp2z3S?si=u1X3Un5xS5iB0mhDF3ifRQ)_
> 
> _[plugging my amy and hope custom spotify playlist... thanks for the likes fam.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1BWwmOgfBNDehLrEFrKqwn?si=3q-efwmjQAyxj5nlSuGEMQ)_
> 
> _[also love how i'm probably the only person to know that kaitlyn was singing "He Wasn't" by Avril Lavigne just from that small clip because i was basically raised on Avril... what even- that song fucking slaps hard... kaitlyn has taste for what? a five year old? yes girl.](https://www.instagram.com/p/CF23tQHJ40C/)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really short, but it's something. 
> 
> sorry for errors, it's been a while.

_“Hey, are you okay?”_

Amy’s gaze flicks up suddenly, and she recoils in shock before quickly relaxing back into the kitchen chair, she’s scrolling through some blog on her MacBook, trying to get a grasp of what information it was trying to convey to her, Hope takes a seat next to her, a Wonder Woman coffee mug in her right hand as she takes a long drink from it, dressed in a loose fitting NYU shirt and some sweatpants, obviously just woken up even after half past eleven.

“Just trying to find more information about something,” Amy murmurs, her hand is supporting the left side of her face as her elbow presses against the woodgrain, a pair of thin rimmed glasses falling down the bridge of her nose.

“What’s going on?” Hope inquires with a half yawn.

“Nothing,” Amy presses, “It’s nothing big.”

Amy hears the uninhabited hum of disapproval escape Hope’s lips as she switches tabs on her web browser, “You’re doing that thing again.”

“Thing?” Amy looks over, narrowing her eyes and using her index finger to push the metal frame of he glasses back up to her face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Hope’s brows crease into an expression that’s only able to be described as smugness, reaching her index finger, she manages to subtly tap the side of Amy’s cheek playfully before shaking her head in amusement, “You’re doing that thing where your really focused on something for no apparent reason.”

“I’m not—"

“Your jumpy,” Hope adds on, “You’re not usually jumpy about techy stuff, there was that one time though.”

“Don’t bring that up,” Amy groans half-heartedly, “I don’t want to revisit last Christmas with your parents again.”

“Yeah,” Hope lets out a chuckle, “There’s no way your being invited back to their cabin after that fiasco.”

“I already know!” Amy chimes abruptly, face heating up in embarrassment at the mention, “And I just said I didn’t want to revisit it, Molly sent me a link, how was I supposed to know what it was?”

“It’s common sense, your friends don’t send you links like that.”

“Well, what about Annabelle—"

Hope frowns, raising a hand instantly and cutting off the other girl, “Is a good person and knows I will murder her if she ever sends me _porn_.”

“It wasn’t—” Amy starts, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head quickly, “Forget it.”

Hope gives a sly smirk, forehead creasing slightly as she pushes herself up swiftly and moves to grab the glass carafe from the coffee maker, topping her mug full and taking a sip without hesitation, gagging slightly from the strong bitter taste.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Hope inquires with a yawn, managing to pull open their refrigerator and crane her neck back to glance at Amy. Who simply gives her an indecisive hum as a response. Hope shakes her head, pursing her lips in concentration, she rubs the corner of an eye and grabs the small container of garden vegetable flavored cream cheese, letting the door fall closed as Hope begins the small prep work of making herself a bagel.

“What are you making?” Amy questions as she looks up at the soft sound of the rustling plastic bread bag, hearing Hope slam the toaster’s lever down abruptly seconds later. Something Hope was characterized as in Amy’s book upon moving in together in New York. Finding her being way too aggressive and hard on kitchen appliances for no reason. Frowning, Amy opens her mouth to protest, “You’re going to break our toaster, you know,” Amy comments as Hope turns around to look at her.

“No I’m not,” Hope chastises, “And if I do, I’ll try and fix the damn thing again.”

“You almost burned the whole apartment complex down last time you tried that,” Amy shakes her head, “We know how you are at fixing electrical things.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t change a light bulb,” Hope murmurs.

“No,” Amy corrects, “You _also_ can’t do that, you dropped…” Amy trails off for a minute, looking down with an excessively wide smile as she taps the pads of her fingers against each other, counting inside of her head before looking back to Hope, “You dropped two of them the last time the hallway burned out, and I’m not sure if you remember, but you basically caused the whole floor to evacuate while the fire department had to come and make sure it was safe.”

“It wasn’t _that_ big of deal.”

“It was during a downpour,” Amy adds on, clearly unimpressed, “I was in the shower, and had to litterly go outside and pretty much destroy a pair of good slippers."

“Okay well, I know I can just try to learn off of YouTube again,” Hope replies, leaning against the counter, her arms folding over her chest as she cranes her neck backward so the her head rests against one of the upper cabinets, “It’s not that big of deal, I don’t see you making anything anyway.”

“Well,” Amy surmises, “it’s not, but I figured I could just snag some of what you’re having.”

“It’s not vegan,” Hope corrects, reaching out to take a drink of her now room temperature black coffee, the information makes Amy frown and look back to her laptop.

“You’re eating liquid cow flesh,” Amy jabs, blatantly acting uninterested and yet seemingly annoyed.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Hope questions, “It’s just a dairy product, you drink that off brand milk stuff anyways.”

“Soy milk,” Amy rolls her eyes at the comment, “There’s a difference.”

“-And it’s disgusting,” Hope tacks on without hesitation, looking to the toaster for some sort of conformation to her opinionated statement, before glancing back to Amy’s concentrative gaze, “Remind me never to go vegan.” Amy shrugs at Hope’s retort. Instead, choosing to type something on her MacBook that Hope cannot see due to her position in the kitchen, the taller girl hearing Amy mutter something to herself seconds later that Hope doesn’t quite catch firsthand, she purses her lips and shakes her head trying to confirm with herself that her ears weren’t fooling her, “What was that?”

“I said,” Amy looks up, clearly perplexed about something, “I don’t think that’s going to be hard thing to do.”

“Oh,” Hope nods, “Yeah, right.”

“I think your burning it.”

Hope practically gives herself whiplash at how quickly she looks down to the toaster, trying to pop the lever and pull the indeed scalding hot slabs of bread from the stainless steel holders. Practically growling loudly as she drops them onto a plate, _“Shit, fuck.”_

“Having fun over there?” Amy questions.

“Extremely,” Hope mocks sarcastically, “I think you might need to arrest me for having this much fun with a toaster.”

“Well, I don’t know what you’re doing with that toaster then,” Amy jabs, “Guess it gives you a better time than I do.”

“Right, you should see our bread children then,” Hope plays on tactfully, eyebrows raising in a sarcastic manor, “They’re certainly wonderful.”

“That’s one lucky toaster then,” Amy quips back.

“You wouldn’t believe it, but I’m actually cheating on her.”

“You are?” Amy suspects curiously, lips coming up to form a large smile as Hope nods in conformation.

“Totally. I’m thinking about abandoning my marriage for this one girl I know,” Hope teases, “But you didn’t hear it from me, ”

“Sounds about right,” Amy rolls her eyes, “Anyway, don’t kill yourself, I don’t think she’d like to know about your sexual endeavors with me. ”

“I could never tell anyone about that,” Hope shoots back, cursing again under her breath, “Anyway, that might be hard considering this bagel might’ve already killed me.”

“Do I need to treat you like a giant fucking toddler again?” Amy quips, earning Hope’s signature heated glare as she begins to spread the cream cheese onto her breakfast, “I don’t have to child proof the kitchen?”

“No,” Hope deadpans, “I’m old enough to make a bagel, shut up.”

“You burnt it,” Amy comments.

“No shit Sherlock,” Hope shakes her head amusedly, “Is there any other observations you want to point out to me?”

“Yes,” Amy bites the inside of her cheek as Hope’s gaze flicks back to her, the taller girl’s face softening after a minute, almost like she was assessing the dramatic mood change.

“What?”

“You look nice today,” Amy murmurs, looking down at the placemat afterwards in embarrassment, feeling her face heat up seconds later.

Hope shakes her head at the compliment, rolling her eyes and letting out an amused chuckle, “Ha ha, very funny babe.”

“I’m serious,” Amy sheepishly lets out, letting her gaze wander back to Hope.

“I know,” Hope confirms, taking a bite of her bagel and managing to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards, “You look nice too nerd.”

“Now shut up,” Amy reprimands, “I’ve got to call Molly, we’re going to be discussing some important stuff.”

“Are you going to finally let the cat out of the bag?”

“Cat?” Amy questions.

“Me?” Hope reasons, “Are you going to tell her about me?”

Amy quickly shakes her head, “I’m not sure we’re far enough away from her yet. I don’t trust her enough to not come up here with some kind of shive hidden in her turtleneck or something in order to come and assassinate you while I’m asleep.”

“Sounds like Davidson,” Hope mocks, “Knowing her, she _would_ carry some estrange murder weapon in that tacky as hell turtleneck sweater of hers.”

“I was kidding Hope, jeez,” Amy rolls her eyes, “Don’t talk that badly of her, she would never kill you.”

Hope gives a wavering hum, “I don’t know about that nerd, she isn’t really fond of me.”

“Your right,” Amy reasons slowly, “She would probably do something.”

“See?” Hope points out with a shrug, “I think I might just go work out or something anyway.”

“Okay,” Amy murmurs, “Have fun.”

“Believe me, I totally will,” Hope bites back sarcastically.

* * *

“Right so,” Amy quips, looking down to half full sketchbook page in front of her. She’s currently on a Skype call with Molly while Hope is somewhere in the other room down the hall.

“All I’m saying is Amy, we need to do something about this situation.”

“I completely agree Molls,” Amy nods, “With all of the BLM protests, it’s so unbelievably important that people vote.”

“It’s just so crazy Ames,” Molly shakes her head in astonishment, moving to shift around on the other side of the screen, Amy watches as she retrieves a thick hardcovered book, “I know everyone’s really adamant about voting, but I don’t know if they’re exactly going to do it.”

Amy’s brows crease for a minute, glancing up to catch the side of Hope’s lanky frame coming down the hallway that led directly into the doors for the apartment’s two bedroom areas and a bath, clearly unfazed and obviously not even paying attention to Amy due to her navy blue wired earbuds blaring some chart topper from late 2011, yanking open the refrigerator door for some unopened bottle of water.

“What was that?” Molly questions, narrowing her eyes for a minute, “Is your roommate around?”

Amy’s gaze flicks immediately down to her screen, she already knows that she’s going to start blushing any minute now unless Molly stops asking questions about the post-workout Hope standing in their kitchen chugging some random ass water out of a disposable plastic bottle. She remembers the argument that Hope and her had about that sort of thing being non-eco friendly.

“Y-Yeah,” Amy stammers slightly, biting the inside of her cheek, “She’s around.”

“Can I talk to her?” Molly immediately starts to gush, “You always tell me so much about her Ames, and never let me meet her.”

“Uhm,” Amy immediately sucks in a breath at the question, watching as Hope tugs her earbuds from her ears and raises a brow at Amy’s perplexed expression, “No,” Amy shakes her head, “I-It’s not really a good time for her Molls, maybe another time.”

Hope’s face changes into one of curiosity as she points a finger to herself, earning Amy’s hands to move over her eyes, letting out a stressful groan and a sharp nod at the taller girl, it makes Hope snicker softly to herself and shrug comedically at Amy.

“But Amy…” Molly practically whines, “I really want to see who this girl is. You talk so much about her.” Amy’s head shake instantaneously prompts her best friend to narrow her eyes and bring both of her hands onto the screen to make some kind of vulgar innuendo with her index and middle fingers cramming together in some kind of scissoring motion.

“Stop that,” Amy reprimands in annoyance instantly, “There is _none_ of that happening between us.” Amy’s gaze flicks up to Hope’s eyes, noticing how she’s trying not to break out laughing. Amy’s brows crease momentarily, and she gives a sharp glare towards her girlfriend that quickly quiets her down as Molly moves to shift off screen.

Amy deftly moves her right hand to her throat, acting like she was slitting it with her first finger before pointing directly at Hope.

“It’s so nice that you’re finally getting a healthy sexual experience with another woman Amy,” Molly continues on, ignoring Amy's previous statements contradicting the accusations, “I don’t think Hope…” Molly trails off for a minute, “Was that her name?”

“Who’s name?” Amy inquires half-heartedly, clearly done with this embarrassment as Hope’s own eyes widen in amusement once again.

“That girl,” Molly tries, “The one you made out with at Nick Howland’s party and accidently gave anal to.”

“Molly!” Amy covers her face with her hands, coming back to reality.

“Yes!” Molly chants almost victoriously, “That was her, wasn’t it?”

“Will you ever let me live that down? That was so unbelievably embarrassing.”

“Nope,” Molly smirks, “As your best friend, it is my rightful duty to give you shit for all of your monumental screw ups.”

“It wasn’t a screw up,” Amy tries to protest, “Anyone in my position could’ve made that mistake easily.”

“Nu-uh,” Molly corrects, “I’m sorry honey, but you’re the only lesbian on earth who has made that much of a mistake.”

Amy notices Hope’s hand gestures and it causes her to look up partially, shaking her head quickly, “Shut up, don’t even think about it,” she tacks on, apparently loud enough for Molly to catch.

“Is that her?” Molly questions again, earning Amy’s solum nod, “Can I please meet her Ames? Please?”

“No,” Amy shakes her head sternly, “Absolutely not.”

“I promise you I will not ask for anything else in the entire world.”

“That’s a lie,” Amy frowns.

“Pretty please?” Molly tries again, and Amy’s frown turns into a small scowl.

“ _Molly_ ,” Amy starts out, “ _No_. I told you already.”

The crinkle of Hope’s water bottle causes her eyes to revert back up to the taller girl. A smug smirk playing across her lips as Molly continues to plead with her through their Skype call. There’s some kind of blind unspoken exchange sent between both girls, but apparently it's one that Amy didn’t quite catch firsthand because Hope’s smirk is replaced with a full on grin.

“I guess she could meet me,” Hope states bluntly after a minute, and Amy feels the color drain partially from her face, glancing down to Molly’s that was now rapt with attention. Amy knows she recognizes the voice, there’s no way neither of them couldn’t.

“Oh my God…” Molly trails off suddenly, her expression being replaced by a shit-eating grin through the screen.

“No Molly,” Amy starts to instantly plead, “it’s not _that_ —”

“Your sleeping with _Hope_!”

“It’s not like—”

“No, no, I don’t care about excuses Ames,” Molly waves a hand in what almost seems like sincerity, Amy’s mouth falling close in silence seconds afterwards, continuing the basic struggle to hold herself together as Hope leans over the opposite side of the table, “Tell me though, does she actually like that anal thing you did?”

Hope visually winces at the question, jaw slackening as Amy swallows audibly, “ _Amy_.”

“Is she like…” Molly trails off slowly, “One of _those_ people? Are you two boning? Is she really good in bed?”

“Amy,” Hope repeats her name, the redhead catching her heated glare above the computer's screen. Seeing her mouth open in a stern frown as she reaches a hand up to rest against the edge of the top of the MacBook, “Get off of the call,” She instructs quietly, almost mouthing the words, and Amy swears she’s like a deer in headlights.

“B-But—” She tries, only to have Hope shake her head, face scrunching up in her signature unimpressed frown.

“ _Now_ ,” Hope reprimands quietly, pushing herself off of the table to stand in front of her, arms folding over her chest as she gives a stare that almost makes Amy’s blood run cold with how intense it looks.

Amy’s eyes flick down to an unbeknownst Molly and she swallows thickly, “Molls, I’ve got to-uh…” her voice trails off as she faintly notices Hope striding back down the hallway without another word to her.

“What’s going on?” Molly suspects with concern, “Is everything okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Amy stammers, “I have to gay— I-I mean go… I have to go.”

“Are you okay?” Molly questions, making Amy immediately cover her face in what could only be slight humiliation, peering through her fingers to her amused best friend on plastered on the screen of her MacBook.

“No,” She manages to choke out after a minute, shaking her head slowly.

"Well your not in trouble are you?"

"I'll call you later-" Amy shunns the previous question. She feels her cheeks heat up as she ends the call and locks the laptop. An auditable swallow brings her to slowly get up and shakily travel down the small hallway.

* * *

“So,” Hope exhales through a yawn, “What was going on with you and Molly earlier?”

“You mean before you ruined our whole conversation to go and do the do?” Amy questions, rolling onto her arm to look at Hope lying with her gaze fixed to the ceiling.

“I didn't ruin anything,” Hope chuckles softly to herself, craning her head over to catch Amy’s eyes through the thin blanket of darkness surrounding their bedroom, "Besides, are you seriously complaining about _that_ right now?"

Amy lets out a steady puff of air, "No complaints here on that department."

Hope rolls her eyes with a unimpressed expression,“Anyway, last I remember, you were the one yammering on and insisting on keeping me hidden from her in the beginning.”

“That wasn’t for obvious reasons?” Amy stammers lightly, “You know she’s never going to let me live that down.”

“Eh,” Hope snickers out, “It’s not that big of deal, it’s just me.”

“That’s the point,” Amy frowns, “It’s _just_ you.”

“Are you disappointed that it’s me or something?” Hope scrutinizes tenderly, “Because I can move out, it’s not that hard, the lease is under your name.”

“Now…” Amy trails off absentmindedly, “I never said that.”

“Right,” Hope acknowledges, “It just seems like you were ashamed of me.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Amy teeters out, “I’m not ashamed of you…”

“But you wanted to keep us hidden, claiming we were—” Hope brings up her hands to gesture air quotes with her fingers, “’roommates’ to your _best_ friend.”

“It’s _Molly_.”

“ _Still_ ,” Hope surmises, “Some friend she is if you can’t even tell her your sleeping with her mortal enemy.”

“Is that what your calling yourself now?” Amy teases back amusedly, “Mortal enemy?”

“I mean it’s some romantic bullshit, sleeping with your enemy.”

“Sure,” Amy rolls her eyes, “That’s like saying Molly’s sleeping with Annabelle.”

“Hey,” Hope pipes up, “Annabelle may sleep with a lot of people, but she would _never_ stoop low enough to sleep with Davidson.”

“Are you sure about that?” Amy questions.

“Positive,” Hope confirms, clearing her throat, “Now talk to me more about this discussion you were having.”

“Okay so,” Amy starts out, “You watch the news, right?”

Hope purses her lips in an amused frown, “Do I watch the news? What am I? Living with a rock?”

Amy shakes her head, “Right, your living with me.”

“Yeah,” Hope replies, “To answer your question, do I watch the news? Yes you dumbass.”

“This dumbass got into an ivy league and graduated second in her class.”

“You know what I mean,” Hope scrutinizes, “I know what’s going on in the world.”

“Well,” Amy starts out, “Molly and I were talking about all of the protests and the racial injustice situations going on in the world and we wanted to try and do something about it.”

“We went to that peaceful protest last week,” Hope points out, “We just left early before all of those riots.”

“Yes. I know,” Amy nods, “But we wanted to actually raise awareness on the governmental issues since Trump—”

“Don’t even talk about Trump,” Hope groans out lowly, “He is one _hell_ of a person.”

“Which is why we were thinking about situations to help encourage people to vote, you know?”

“Yeah, I can get that,” Hope confirms, pausing for a minute, “Here’s an idea. Why don’t we take a mini road trip down to New Haven and maybe hand out some flyers or something?”

“Really?” Amy questions, voice raising in pitch slightly in mere excitement, “A road trip?”

“It’s an option,” Hope inquires, “But I’m _not_ helping you if anything.”

“Of course,” Amy keens, “That’s to be expected, you barely help with anything and I doubt Molly would be for you on a side street twirling some sign around.”

“I did it during the summer of 2015 for my Uncle Noah’s ice cream parlor in Phoenix.”

“Oh,” Amy laughs out, “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah,” Hope narrows her eyes, “It was also the year your best friend bitch slapped me in front of the whole school and got away with it.”

“Your still mad about that?”

“You know I hold grudges,” Hope grumbles softly.

“Well,” Amy shifts closer to Hope’s side, throwing a leg over her own as she curls herself beneath Hope’s right arm that’s still tucked under her head in a smug fashion, “Get some sleep, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Amy feels Hope move to raise her head partially, probably to look over to the glowing alarm clock on the nightstand, groaning out in disgust at the sight as she plops back down, “How the hell is it after three? It feels like we just laid down.”

“Because you drank a Red Bull at 10pm and expected to sleep right afterwards,” Amy teases.

“Don’t call me out like that.”

* * *

It’s sometime after eleven in the morning on a Monday in the near the end of July when Hope manages to load her single duffel bag in the trunk of her Honda. (As well as Amy’s three suitcases that she _insisted_ on not leaving without and weighed literal tons each.)

Hope’s half way through her whole mental list after starting the car when Amy pulls out her phone, “Okay so,” Hope starts out looking through the rear-view mirror to the backseat containing several grocery sacks splayed on top of a neatly folded crocheted NYU blanket that Amy’s grandmother made for her as a Christmas gift a year or so ago, “Snacks?”

“We brought your Pringles, yes,” Amy clarifies, momentarily shaking her head in amusement, only to have Hope craning her body backwards to tug her seatbelt on without another thought, “And I have some special news,” Amy informs.

Hope’s face snaps over to look at her girlfriend, anxiety creeping across her features as she opens her mouth to object, “Please don’t tell me you decided to try and do that lesbian eyebrow slit thing again,” Hope pleads bluntly, “I don’t know if I can handle another one of your drunk shenanigans featuring a razor at one AM.”

“No,” Amy dolefully scolds, “Your _mad_ about that?”

“You shaved off my _right_ eyebrow.”

“And you looked like a special snowflake.”

“It took _months_ Amy,” Hope states sternly, “You don’t believe how much I wanted to shave off the other one so people would quit asking me if they were playing hide and seek with each other.”

“Well I think you looked lovely,” Amy cheerfully ponders, the statement easily causing Hope to let out an unimpressed grumbled huff, “I was actually going to say that I made the perfect road trip playlist.”

“Oh no,” Hope objects, “Not another one of your—”

“Shh,” Amy quips with a wave of a hand, moving to plug in the car’s AUX cord to her phone, her thumb pressing play without much warning or notice on Hope’s end. The rhythmic synchronized beats of Queen’s ‘ _Under Pressure’_ blaring through the stereo speakers causing them both to jump in shock from the sheer volume, Hope’s hand immediately snakes out in search of the knob to the radio like a reflex seconds later.

“Are you trying to make us both deaf?” It’s more of a statement laced heavily with sarcasm from Hope’s voice as her forehead creases, glancing to Amy in a mix of concern and amusement, “I mean, I can totally get down with not for not having the ability to hear Molly’s annoying voice ever again, but I don’t exactly want to never be able to hear you for that matter.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as an insult or a compliment.”

“Take it as both,” Hope objects dryly, “Please tell me your so called playlist—” Hope’s finger motions to Amy’s phone in her hand, “—isn’t strictly comprised of whatever your music taste is?”

“You mean my _good_ taste,” Amy corrects.

“Yeah,” Hope snorts out, rolling her eyes with an unimpressed frown, “Fat chance in hell your taste would be considered ‘ _good_.’”

“You like it,” she pouts for a minute, slumping back into the passenger seat with a huff, “You said—”

“I’m just messing with you,” Hope interrupts her, tone wavering in a chuckle, “Take a joke once in a while, I know your still so tightly wound from high school, but jeez babe.”

“I can’t tell half the time,” Amy tries, “Your always so conflicted and confusing.”

“Well, I’d think living with you would be some indication in the fact that I’m almost always joking with you.”

“So basically our relationship is a joke to you?”

“I never said that,” Hope shoots out, “I— Jesus. _No_!”

“Well,” Amy replies flatly, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Exactly,” Hope nods, “You don’t know, but unless your full on ticking me off, it’s almost always jokes.”

“Yeah,” Amy chimes briefly.

“Yeah,” Hope echoes, “You know I like teasing you until your red in the face anyway.”

“Which _teasing_ are you insinuating?”

“Uhm,” Hope looks back to the steering wheel, momentarily processing the sudden assumption, “You know…” She tries, hesitating to coherently speak, “…the one where…” voice trailing off again as she continues to stammer silently and temporarily having her brain short circuit.

“Joking!” Amy shoots out suddenly, jabbing a palm against Hope’s fringed shoulder, evidently startling the taller girl from her mental rabbit hole, “I got you good, huh?”

“Y-Yeah,” Hope replies dully, pursing her lips and chuckling nervously, “Good one.”

Hope sighs softly and shifts the car into reverse as she cranes her neck to glance out of the back window as she vacates the parking space unhindered, hesitantly creeping the car forward up a steep hill and finding the apartment complex’s exit without another issue. Amy doesn’t make a motion to play her playlist until their closer to the interstate ramp, and even then, Hope’s really getting into the sound of the quiet hum of the engine.

* * *

It starts to sprinkle twenty minutes out, Amy’s poorly trying to convince Hope into having some kind of make shift car sing along to _‘Sweet Caroline.’_

Of course, Hope’s putting up as much of a boundary to this as she can, with Amy just being so _annoying_ about this thing, but she’s about five seconds from saying _‘fuck it’_ and just giving in to the chorus. With Amy having her window down and waving her right arm out of it as she reaches over to Hope’s arm with her left upon the words _‘touching you.’_

_Yep, this sets them back by at least five years alright._

But does Hope seriously care at this point?

God no.

She’s now giving in to Amy’s wishes for her to join in, mimicking the trumpet’s _‘ba ba ba’_ along with her, and following the same hand gestures as the other girl almost like they were in sync. It’s quite surprising how her and Hope had just gotten to know each other in the past year or so due to ruining into each other because of their colleges' and already can just make out every single tidbit and unspoken message almost like they were the same exact person.

No one would really suspect that they were practically mortal enemies back in high school.

“Your so weird,” Hope laughs over Amy continuing to carry the chorus on as the music fades out gracefully and shuffling onto the overly optimistic _‘It’s the End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)’_ by R.E.M.

“Yeah, so?” Amy quips.

“This song is an actual mood,” Hope states.

“Totally screams you during every situation,” Amy rehashes, “You know the lyrics?”

“I mean—” Hope pauses, waiting a minute before immediately darting her eyes to the digital clock on the dash, “ _Uh oh, overflow, population, Common Food_.”

“Of course you would know that line.”

“It’s a fun line,” Hope ponders, “Who wouldn’t want to say, _‘Uh oh’_ as a song lyric?”

“Apparently not you?” Amy questions.

“Got that right,” Hope confirms, looking over for a minute, and reaching over to press the switch to roll her window down as the chorus blares, afterwards with her opposite hand she turns up the volume on the radio several notches.

“Louder?”

“Fuck. Yes,” Hope grins widely, letting her left arm drape on the edge of the window, waving her middle finger out to everyone who passes around them in the mist of the sprinkling rain, “It’s the end of the world, and I _fucking_ feel fine.”

“That’s not—"

“It’s the lyrics now,” Hope interrupts with a thrown heated glare.

“Well, alright then,” Amy shrugs nonchalantly, “Just… put _that_ away.”

“What?” Hope looks over curiously.

“Gee, I don’t know,” Amy surmises sarcastically, “Your middle finger? You’re going to get us pulled over, or worse, _shot_.”

“It’s America,” Hope narrows her eyes.

“Yeah, well, I’m not one to be the barer of bad news, but freedom of speech doesn’t mean you have the ability to tell everyone to fuck off honey,” Amy frowns, “Molly expects to see _me_ Hope, and _not_ in a body bag.”

“Right, right,” Hope affirms, “Kind of don’t want to die today either.”

* * *

“We’re out of _Pringles_.”

“Of course,” Amy fumbles out. She’s currently unbuckled and possibly breaking several different traffic laws by having her whole upper body contorted over the arm console between her and Hope’s seat, attending to something in the back as Hope continues on the interstate. It’s probably a good sixty or so, but knowing Hope and her driving skills, it’s five over the limit.

“Your ass is like…” Hope tries to protest, “…in my goddamn face here.”

“Quit looking at it then.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hope replies, “What’s even going on back there?”

“I’m getting my mints,” Amy huffs.

Hope has to practically swerve around two potholes in the course of the time it takes for Amy to recover into her seat again, an unopened green package of Lifesavers laying across her right thigh as she hurriedly pulls her seatbelt back on, exhaling in relief.

“You good?” Hope asks bluntly, the girl nodding boldly in lieu of the question.

“Yeah,” She murmurs back, tearing the bag open after gaining her bearings without asking for help. However still somehow managing to cover her entire lap with the translucent Lifesaver wrappers. Amy swears under her breath and glances to Hope in slight apprehension as she mindlessly attempts to gather each one without the taller girl noticing the newfound mess.

“Let me guess,” Hope starts, gaze unwavering from the windshield, “You got too aggressive with the bag again?”

“No!” Amy lies, “it’s totally cool, you see? I’ve got this.”

“Liar,” Hope chimes amusedly.

“Ass,” Amy echoes.

Hope snickers softly to herself, the radio is still playing Amy’s “oldies” road trip playlist, more so background noise now than anything else at this point. Amy’s forgotten much about it. If anything else, she had tried to take a nap a while ago and gave up in the span of ten minutes after realizing sleep wasn’t exactly coming to her. While Hope on the other hand, felt her ass becoming even more numb as she drove.

She wasn’t ever really fond of driving long distances, her lanky frame and sour attitude didn’t exactly permit to it much. Amy wasn’t much of a driver anyway, or one that Hope would gladly give the car keys to. There wasn’t anything bad about it, Hope had always just been nervous about being driven places.

Hope notices a small green sign stream by after an overpass, and it makes her interrupts the silence between them.

_“We’re twenty three miles away from the exit ramp to New Haven.”_

* * *

_“Oh my gosh!”_

Hope doesn’t even have the car fully parked when they enter the small McDonald’s parking lot that Molly addressed for them to meet at. Amy’s old Volvo is parked in one of the furthest spaces, decked out with the same bumper stickers, and if Hope squints hard enough she swears there must’ve been a few more added.

But what sends her for a panicked loop is the part where Amy instantly throws her car door open and practically falls onto the ground trying to get over to her old car, obviously too excited to wait until they’ve stopped _rolling_ completely.

“Amy!” Hope practically screams, practically giving herself whiplash at the amount of force she applies to the break peddle, she’s not angry, just really concerned for the girl’s safety. She wouldn’t call it fear because Hope wouldn’t ever admit to being scared of much of anything aloud, “You dumbass. You’re going to break your fucking leg.”

“Shut up,” Amy hollers back, “Look! Molly!”

“Yeah,” Hope states, “But wait a second, _Jesus_.”

And of course, by that time Amy’s already full on sprinting across the parking lot, almost getting ran over by a few cars and having to slap the back of someone’s windshield to stop them from continuing further from vacating a parking space. Obviously seeming unfazed from the events from five seconds ago, how she practically stumbled out of a moving car going probably 3 mph, but _still_.

Yikes, Hope’s now subtly less inclined in being able to put up with this whole ordeal. The ordeal of two _wives_ — best friends uniting once again.

The ordeal of Amy practically _tackling_ Molly to the ground in excitement and Molly herself ending up dropping everything she had in her hands onto either the ground, or onto Amy if it was like the last time with her iced coffee.

Hope hasn’t even parked fully, and she’s already sure it’s only a matter of time before Molly winds up coming over to talk her ear off about some wildlife documentary where everyone needs to reduce their own carbon footprints because ‘ _global warming exists and we're going to screw over future generations if we don't do something about it.’_

Hope’s already throwing up in her mouth at the mere thought of having to listen to her voice, but it’s for Amy, and she was the one who suggested on coming here. The radio is quite fittingly playing The La’s _‘There She Goes’_ quietly as Hope manages to shift the car into park and exhale in relief. She subconsciously looks over to the center console’s two cupholders, one of which is filled to the brim with Amy’s empty translucent cellophane Lifesavers wrappers while the other is the unopened versions.

She takes one from the unopened side and lets the spearmint taste envelope across her taste buds as she looks back onto the main street she’s able to see from her car. It’s not exactly ‘ _busy’_ for a Monday, but Hope wouldn’t think much of the traffic being really something to scoff at compared to New York most of the time.

“Shit,” Hope swears quietly, she catches sight of the small rainbow colored face mask tucked into the car door holder, and figures it’s not the best time to try and remind Amy with the whole mask situation. They’re still both getting used to the whole wearing them. Not that Amy hasn’t been good at that, she totally has, it’s just been more from her end of the spectrum anyway.

She fishes her own from it’s home in her glove compartment, and kills the ignition. Holding Amy’s in her left hand as she grabs their phones and slowly makes her way from the driver’s seat into the remotely sunny parking lot. Looping each of the sides behind her ears and pulling the top over the bridge of her nose as she briskly scrapes her beat up Converse across the sporadically littered parking lot.

Molly spots her easily, there wasn’t really any other way she couldn’t have.

Hope’s mask moves across her mouth as she attempts to smile beneath it, though it’s possibly not read clearly due to the black offending fabric, choosing to quickly add on a short wave to the poor attempts of showing sincerity to her ex-peer. Something that seemed sugarcoated and had _"I'm only doing this because Amy told me to"_ written all over them. After all, there was legitimately no other reason Hope would step foot into this parking lot, and for the love of God, no way in fucking _Hell_ she’d ever voluntarily be nice to Molly Davidson if it wasn’t for Amy Antsler. 

“You forgot this _babe_.”

Amy quickly spins around, cheeks flaring up at the taller girl as Hope’s gaze continues to linger on Molly’s bedazzled blue and white mask that contained an embroidered black fist covering over her mouth. Proving to be extremely inferior design wise to her own plain black one. Hope manages to accentuate her tone across the endearing pet name as she states the obvious situation, more so for Molly’s own benefit, knowing that she’ll ask intriguingly embarrassing questions when she was out of earshot.

 _Okay_ , so it wasn’t exactly for Molly’s benefit anyway. Sue her.

Maybe Hope liked to try and test her luck in things like that, more so because Amy seemed to become extremely shy whenever either of them would bring up things like that. But hell, if Hope was honest about the situation, Amy was shy about almost everything still. Only, she doesn’t exactly second guess herself when it’s just the both of them.

It was for amusement really. Old habits die hard.

“Thanks,” Amy’s flustered expression accentuates her smile as she slips the cloth over her face and around her ears, “You look like a surgeon,” She adds.

“Surgeon?” Hope surmises, “Well then, you look like a _gay_ surgeon.”

“And I’m here!” Molly interrupts them quickly before either of them could carry on with their semi-private discussion, “Hello? Yes? Earth to the lesbians? Molly incoming?”

“Oh!” Amy jumps, “Sorry.”

“Hope,” Molly utters out, partially annoyed, “And it’s a pleasure to see you.”

“Likewise Davidson.”

“Be nice,” Amy corrects, “Both of you.”

Hope and Molly both snap their attention to the redhead and easily fold their arms across their chests, somehow managing to somehow nonchalantly state, _“I’ll do my best,”_ In sync. Possibly annoying the both of them further.

* * *

They eventually get situated. They get back to Molly and Annabelle’s shared apartment that was really only a few blocks away from Yale’s campus. Which quickly closed a month or so prior due to the deadly outbreak of something initially classified as the 'Corona virus.'

Annabelle’s parents originally vouched to pay for an apartment upon her travels to college, her father being some stockbroker and extremely wealthy. Molly just ended up being her roommate because… well, Hope’s still not sure why, but they did indeed live together.

In separate rooms of course.

Obviously, there was no funny business going on between either of them, Hope would be so bewildered if there ever was.

This was Molly Davidson of course, and her tolerable friend that she _somehow_ didn’t find repulsing to hang around during her last few years of her adolescents.

“Okay!” Annabelle walks into the small living room of their shared apartment. “There is officially too many fucking people here for my comfort.”

“And that’s my cue to go use the restroom,” Hope hums profoundly, beginning to untangle herself from where she sat slanted against the side of Amy’s frame on the couch, arm resting against the back of it and over the back of Amy’s neck as they watch some documentary about the ocean. Something Hope didn’t vote for initally, but was willing to endure at the sake of Amy’s fingers coming to lace through her opposite hand beneath the gazes of Molly and Annabelle as the two roommates sit somewhere across the room. The probability of them discussing something to do with the sharks on the screen were high, but all Hope could really focus on was trying not to look down at their hands and immediately to the side of Amy’s preoccupied face with a small smile.

Hope doesn’t want to admit how she subtly enjoys this remotely strange contact between them. Hand holding and lemon sharks weren’t exactly two things that would help her maintain her rep as someone not to mess with, but for some reason right now at this moment it just felt like whatever.

Molly’s not looking to them, and she thinks that if she ever witnessed Amy even looking at Hope like she has, Hope herself would be in for a rude awakening at a foaming-at-the mouth Molly Davidson.

Not that Hope would actually care if Molly saw them like this, but Amy’s well… still kind of shy about PDA and stuff in that sorts, and she doubts Amy would be too gung-ho about getting all of those personal questions regarding them living together and their relationship.

“Your leaving?” Amy asks as Hope stands up, almost sounding disappointed that Hope was potentially leaving her side. Hope laughs softly and nods in reply. Alluding to rolling her eyes afterwards with half smile spreading over her lips, “Where are you going?” She follows up with an inquisitive look.

“To empty out my bladder,” Hope states, seemingly suppressing a rhetorical comment about bathroom humor, but deciding against it seconds later. Smoothing her thumb over the back of Amy’s hand as she brings it up to her lips to press a kiss to the auburn’s knuckle, “I’m coming right back though nerd.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

Hope lets out a steady stream of air and feels the need to shift her stance remotely between her legs, “Because I haven’t yet?” Hope murmurs out quickly, “I just really need to-uh…”

“Pee?” Amy finishes, and Hope nods with certainty, “Alright.”

“Hey, Ann?” Hope interrupts Molly and hers discussion, her voice breaking ever so slightly in what almost feels like panic, and the brunette quickly cranes her neck to Hope’s standing frame as she continues to shift, “Bathroom?”

“Third one on your right.”

“Thanks,” Hope heaves out, turning on her heel and briskly shuffling down the narrow hallway, out of eyesight.

“So Ames,” Molly says after a minute, “About that plan we had in mind for Tuesday.”

Amy looks up for a minute, disregarding all of her previous concern regarding her girlfriend to focus on their reason they traveled down to New Haven. To execute this plan.

Said ‘plan’ had been planned for weeks and was discussed to having the code name (as per Hope’s words) of _‘Vote, you fucking buffoons.’_

It wasn’t actually called _that_ exactly, it was agreed to be _‘Plan Dantsler : Save America.’_

“Did you finish those signs?” Amy ponders, “The neon picketing ones?”

“Well almost,” Annabelle comments, clicking her tongue, “The puff paints kept not wanting to dry.”

“Why didn’t you use acrylic or something?” Amy questions.

“Isn’t that for cars?” Molly quips with a raised brow.

“No,” Annabelle sighs loudly, her hand coming up to slap her own forehead with a grumble before opening her mouth, “There’s such thing as acrylic nails you dumbass.”

“It’s a valid question!” Molly shoots, “And you know crafts aren’t my forte.”

“Yeah,” Annabelle surmises, “Your 'forte' consists of staying out too late at libraries while memorizing every goddamn law book that exists.”

“Well it ended up sticking, our blow drier just so happened to break half way through our third so that was fun,” Molly ignores her roommate momentarily giving a nod towards her best friend, “I can show you if you want to see them Ames.”

“Why must everything consist of you murdering our appliances?” Annabelle comments, raising Molly's eyes in a mock attempt to insult the girl, “That’s what I want to know Davidson. We can’t ever have nice things because you ruin them.”

“I bought us a new one, chill out,” Molly concludes with a eye roll.

“Fine,” Annabelle huffs, folding her arms over her chest with a sour expression, “Whatever.”

“I think I’d like to see how they turned out,” Amy says after Annabelle’s dramatics become less of their issue and more of a personal problem, Molly’s eyes flicker in excitement at Amy’s statement, the shorter girl bounding up from her seat and instantly grabs the auburn’s wrist, tugging her down the same narrow hallway to a closed door. Letting go of her hand as soon as they enter the small room. There’s a bunch of boxes against the far wall. Seeming like this room looked to be for a storage space and a small office considering the unfolded white banquette table that hugged the farthest wall from the doorway.

“Now, this purple one is mine,” Molly shuffles across the spongy carpet, moving the foldable chair away from herself and looking back to Amy’s static frame, “And Annabelle already called pink.”

“But I wanted pink,” Amy states, slumping her shoulders in disappointment as Molly waves a hand for her to sidle up to her.

“You have either orange, green, or piss yellow to choose from.”

“I think I’ll take the retina burning orange, thank you very much,” Amy jokes crassly.

“Sure thing buddy,” Molly says, pulling the sign up by the cheap pliable paint stirrer handle, “Here you go.”

Amy’s hands come to grasp the sign and holds it, looking at both of the sides, and pursing her lips at what she saw, “I think you spelt something wrong here.”

“What?” Molly almost gasps, “Where?”

“First of all,” Amy murmurs, “I don’t think protect has a two c's in it. Second, how are people supposed to read this Molls? It’s so crooked.” Amy twists the sign to Molly’s face and she immediately swats it from her with a frown.

“Never mind that,” Molly huffs, “Let’s just say that Annabelle was the reason it looks like dog shit.”

“But the others are fine?”

Molly hums appreciatively, “Well, Annabelle may or may not have wanted to put the wrong ‘your,’ for the most part after that so she was essentially discharged from sign making duties for the rest of the time being.”

“And you call yourselves Yale students,” Amy sarcastically jabs, shaking her head with a soft laugh.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me and some weirdos did the 'sweet caroline' thing on a bus two years ago and some kid ended up yelling 'ba ba ba' at some people in a McDonalds parking lot as we were driving back to the school... it was like... 7pm and we were all jacked up on caffeine, you can't blame us, and Ivy - one of my friends kept trying to make me join in to that chaos, but as anti-social as i am just wasn't having it.

**Author's Note:**

> been watching She-Ra and The Owl House so... Catradora and Lumity have became my new obsessions officially... that's where I've been... yikes... veering away from Amy and Hope...
> 
> I'm just gonna say that I'm totally a huge simp for 2018 Catra... Ngl...
> 
> you better vote, you buffoons... 
> 
> this'll be finished soon... wasn't sure if i was going to post it all at once or in parts... hope this does something for y'all until then.


End file.
